Two Open Marriages

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About the time I met Jill, I started making notes about a novel that dwelled on the linkage of two family dynasties in the old Carolinas, a saga with lots of turns and twists in the plot set against real world events from the Civil War to today. The plot would span over a hundred years, focus on great character development, and push the boundaries of every main character in the story. I had a rather thorough outline for the story, copious notes, and had started to write random sections as the mood struck and as I had learned writing techniques in some earlier classes.

I'd never written anything other than technical reports for work, so this new hobby and shift to fiction required a mental shift. Over time I realized I needed outside help to hone my new writing skills. I took a class or two, and then got interested in even more. Jill had already written and self-published two books, and wanted to do a new book that was more polished and ready for a wider audience.

Consequently, the two of us started to take various writers' workshops around the Chapel Hill area. After several one evening or one day workshops, we both enthusiastically opted to sign up for a five-day seminar and writer's workshop at the Hazelwood Institute near Ashville that would go all week and lapse into Saturday morning before ending.

We both looked forward to the time together, and I felt certain that we'd not only be wrapped up in the workshops, but also would be spending a lot of time naked and in bed making love to one another. I expressed my passion to Jill, and she smiled and said she liked the sound of the whole workshop-sex week. She liked the idea so much that she proved it to me by jumping my bones.

I told Laura I was signing up for the workshop, and suggested that she come out to Hazelwood with me. Part of me did want her there, despite how that would cramp my téte-a-téte with Jill. Laura begged off, citing a full calendar during the week. Thus, I revealed that Jill would be going too, and that I thought Tom should also come out for the weekend too, and we could hike and prowl around the pretty mountains of the state before coming home on Sunday evening.

Laura was not happy. The scowl that formed suggested a sudden squall at sea that might upset even the hardiest of boats. I could see the wheels turning in her mind, no doubt conjuring up exactly what Jill and I had already thought about, namely, some serious loving time for the two of us.

Eventually, Laura said, "Let me see what I can arrange that weekend, and I'll call Tom and see if the two of us can drive out together to join you two." The scowl was still there, but at least the nuclear explosion that might have detonated didn't occur. I wondered if there was a huge pool of kinetic energy being coiled up inside my wife that would explode at some inopportune moment. I crossed my fingers, and stuck to my guns.

As usual, I let Jill know about the brief discussion and Laura's mood. Since we were all friends and neighbors, and saw each other socially, I figured some transparency might help keep things calm and defuse some of that kinetic energy. At least Jill and I would have our stories straight.

Tom remained almost monotonically focused on his business. He and a partner ran a new hedge fund, and they were determined to make the fund a huge success. So far they were doing quite well, but he was putting in eighty or ninety-hour weeks, and that didn't leave much time for anything other than eating and sleeping, and certainly not for paying too much attention to Jill.

To our surprise, Laura told me two days later that she and Tom would drive out to join us either on Friday night or Saturday morning, and that weather permitting we would do some hiking and relaxing at the beautiful resort and conference center. She smiled and acted happy at the prospect of joining Jill and me at Hazelwood, and even commented favorably at what we'd be learning in the author's seminar. I had to listen carefully to be sure there wasn't an underlying sarcasm, but I heard none.

A couple of weeks later late on Sunday afternoon, Jill and I arrived at Hazelwood and checked in. We'd lucked out with our reservations and gotten a two-bedroom suite with a middle living room between them. Fifteen minutes later, Jill and I were naked in the middle of my bed, and she was moaning as I demonstrated my prowess in cunnilingus.

Jill moaned loudly enough I feared some of the other guests at the center might hear us. The old inn wasn't that soundproof. I had mixed emotions about that. My ego thought it'd be pretty cool to have others know that this sixty-year-old male wasn't over the hill so far that he couldn't turn a forty-year-old hottie on so much that she couldn't control her vocalizations. On the other hand, I didn't want to besmirch either of our reputations, particularly with people we'd likely be sitting in a circle with and discussing various writing techniques, problems, and critiquing each other's work.

Forty-five minutes later, Jill and I meandered downstairs, freshly showered and probably exhibiting that freshly fucked look on both our faces. We just made the last call for dinner. Even over dinner, I could feel the sexual energy between us, and knew I was rapidly recharging my batteries so we could have another lovemaking session before bedtime in each other's arms.

Monday through Friday we established a routine: awaken, make love, breakfast, morning class, lunch, afternoon workshop, late afternoon make love, dinner, informal talk with others in the workshop in the Hazelwood Lounge, and then back to our room to make love. I couldn't remember being happier nor more in love.

Several of the other attendees in the workshop commented about what a happy couple we made. Either Jill or I just thanked them, and wondered what they would say when our spouses arrived to reestablish their claims on us. I got so I didn't care. I totally enjoyed the fact that people saw Jill and me as an entity - a couple, lovers, and collaborators in writing. Neither of us did anything to dissuade them of the opinion that we were all there was in our intimate relationship.

I talked to Laura each day around the dinner hour or shortly after. Our conversations were what I called functional: descriptions of the classes and workshops, recitations about Laura's singing groups and progress towards a seasonal concert, talk about the house and minor problems, discussion about the mail that had arrived at home, and other things that had no emotional heat to them.

Tom and Laura arrived about ten o'clock on Saturday morning while Jill and I were in the last of the workshop sessions. Laura waved in the door of the classroom, and I gave her a smile and wave back as did Jill.

I girded myself for some kind of confrontation. The night before, as we had all week, Jill and I had slept together. Purposely, in the morning we did nothing to change the way we left the room. Only one bed showed the rumpled sheets and blankets as it had each morning since we arrived. While we could have roughed up the second bed to make it looked slept in, we didn't. Jill had suggested it, but I told her, "No. I don't want to live in a closet when it comes to you." She just nodded in agreement. I think that was a watershed moment.

I know that Laura and Tom both put their luggage in the suite. I also knew that Laura was observant enough to spot the bed situation that revealed our sleeping arrangements. I'd already admitted as much, plus hinted about our week together, so it shouldn't have been news.

When our workshop ended at lunch, everyone filed out of the seminar room to either lunch, or pack and leave. We were staying another night.

Tom and Laura were there to greet us. I shook Tom's hand and gave Laura a solid kiss in welcome, and some warm and genuine words about having missed her. Laura was jovial, talked briefly about the drive out to the conference center from our home near Chapel Hill with Tom, involved Tom and Jill in our conversation, and then we all went into the commons area for lunch.

After lunch, we put on appropriate clothes, and then went out to hike on one of the many nature trails that ran through the large acreage of the retreat center. Tom and I led the pack up hill and dale, and through the wooded trails, often laughing and commenting on how different this was from our normally sedentary existence. Behind us I could hear the women having similar words, yet listening for any kind of challenging or questioning statements from Laura. I was sure that Jill also carried the tension of a potentially awkward conversation in her mind.

Nothing happened. Six miles later having traversed forested trails, visited several waterfalls, and forged numerous gorgeous brooks we arrived back at the center shortly before the dinner hour started. Each couple went off to freshen up. I noticed that while we'd been out of the room the maids had cleaned the bathroom and remade the bed.

On the not too subtle side, Laura came out of the bathroom carrying a pink toothbrush. She said in a nonchalant way, "Oh, Jill must have left this in here. I'll give it back to her." She promptly exited our bedroom, spotted Jill in the common living room, and presented her the toothbrush with little aplomb. It was just one person casually returning a potentially missing item to another, without any value judgments going along with it.

Laura came back, and I tried to ignore the situation, but I was both cringing and laughing on the inside behind my neutral façade. I cringed because the presence of the toothbrush indicated a level of intimacy far greater than just the words indicated, and coupled with the rumpled bed only confirmed what I knew were her speculations about our behavior; I had, after all, never actually answered her questions with 'yes' or 'no.' I laughed because the simple action was so mundane.

I also wondered about what Tom's reaction to things was. He'd seen the toothbrush transfer in the living room, yet barely glanced up from the papers he was reading in his open briefcase. If he'd noted the 'only one bed used' situation, he hadn't reacted at all.

When I came into the living room, the conversation just carried on. Nothing appeared wrong in anyone's minds apparently.

Dinner was a chatty affair, and two other couples who'd been in the writer's workshop joined us at a long communal table. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I thought the four other people took a few extra minutes to draw the correct connecting lines between Tom, Jill, Laura, and me. Prior to the dinner, there was only one line and that rather solidly connected Jill and me. I'm sure we complicated the situation because Jill sat next to me, and Tom and Laura sat opposite us on the other side of the long table.

After dinner, we sat around in the Hazelwood lounge and talked, making plans for a hike into a distant lake for Sunday, and then the drive home. The two other couples we'd had dinner with decided to join us on the hike and picnic, and I felt some relief because I was sure that challenges and confrontations wouldn't take place or continue with relative strangers around.

Back in the bedroom, we prepared for bed. As usual I trotted around the room naked, since that was how I normally slept. I knew that any second I would hear some reference to the past week, and I wasn't disappointed.

Laura said in a matter of fact tone, "I take it you and Jill slept together."

I just nodded as I squirted toothpaste on my brush. I added one syllable, "Yep."

"Was it as nice as you expected?"

"Better actually."

After a long silence Laura said, "Are we OK? Give me some reassurance or lay the truth out."

I put down my toothbrush and went and held Laura. I gave her a peck on the end of her nose. She was still dressed, so here I was as naked as a jaybird holding onto my completely dressed wife. I thought that perhaps she was ready to run for the hills if I said the wrong thing.

I said, "Wife, you and I are OK. We are solid, and nothing has changed between us, or needs to change. Jill and I had fun and connected on many levels, plus did all the writing stuff too. This was a great week. Now, don't worry about anything because there is nothing else afoot."

Laura studied my face, peering not only into my eyes, but also into my deepest soul through those portals. She whispered, "Thank you." She kissed me rather passionately, and then pushed me towards the bathroom complete with a swat on my ass to get me moving. She said, "Hurry up in there, I always take longer and I'm tired after our hike and thinking about stuff."

When Laura eventually came to bed I held my arms out for her to snuggle into me. She was wearing her PJs, as usual. In a rare move, she snuggled into me, allowing me to spoon in behind her, although it was clear she was not inviting sex. She asked, "Did you wear that outfit when you went to bed all week?"

"Yes."

"What did Jill wear?"

"The same thing."

Long silence and then, "Oh, OK." There didn't seem to be disappointment in her voice, only acceptance of a minor fact, as though she'd asked me whether we both had orange juice at breakfast and I said yes, and then she said 'Oh OK.' The fact that we made love was inescapable; a jury would unanimously agree.

I gave up trying to read anything further into that brief interchange, but waited for more questions. None came, and we eventually drifted off to sleep listening to the wind in the Carolina pines just outside our bedroom window.

Sunday was about as normal as you might expect. We got up, roused Tom and Jill, dressed, had breakfast and got a picnic lunch, met up with the other couples, and then took our long hike up to Silver Lake and back. We had lunch, including a paper cup of white wine overlooking the rustic lake.

Late in the afternoon back at Hazelwood, we packed, paired up with our partners, and then started the drive home.

After we got on Interstate 40 heading east, I decided to take the initiative. I asked Laura, "You OK? I know this is an unusual ménage."

Laura thought and said, "I'm coming to grips with it. Am I happy about it, not entirely? I am a bit jealous, but then I know we haven't had the kind of sexual relationship you've wanted for the past five years or so. I'm glad you're not hiding this more than you probably did. I like knowing even if I don't care for the result."

I commented carefully, "I would be very unhappy without Jill in my life. I would also be very unhappy without you in my life. I say that, but it's not a contest or a bake off."

"Thank you. Just keep saying things like that to me. It'll help me get through this and get into some level of acceptance. I'm not that far away. I promise not to bug you too much."

"No. No," I protested. "This is unusual, and we're adapting as we go along. If you have something that bugs you, well, other than the obvious, please raise the issue and let's see if we can deal with it. Talking about it will defuse the situation and I'm sure it'll make you feel better."

After a minute Laura said, "OK, then, one question; do you compare the two of us?"

I laughed aloud and I think Laura was mildly insulted. "Laura, honey, no I don't and yes, I do. We all compare and judge everything we do from minute to minute, but I am not comparing the two of you on a list of personality traits and the way you do things like kiss or hug or whatever; absolutely not. Trust me, I am not trying to rank order the two of you over some secret list of things in my head."

"OK. I just worry. I mean Jill is fifteen years younger than I am. She's more youthful, and I think she's more beautiful too ... and ... I ... oh, shit, I'm going to cry."

I reached over and put my hand on Laura's neck and shoulder. "Honey, don't try to compare yourself to someone else, particularly not Jill. Every psychologist in the world will tell you that as soon as you start that shit it'll depress you, because we each somehow pick the worst traits to compare ourselves on."

Laura sputtered, "But ... but ..."

"Yes, Jill is younger. Duh, that means she's more youthful and probably has fewer wrinkles. On the other hand, who has more experience by fifteen years, and consequently more wisdom? Who's had a vibrant career in academia? Who's the best singer, the best cook, the best bridge player, and the most widely read? See, if you pick the right criteria you can win hands down, except this isn't about winning or losing. This is about love."

"How can you love two of us?" Laura's voice had a rough edge to it.

"Because love is not a zero sum game."

"Huh?"

"I was not born with only a limited supply of love that I might use up unless I spend it carefully. No, the more I need to love, the more I have to give, and the more I get in return, and the more I have to give. You know that; we've talked about this in terms of your volunteer work. There's no limit to the amount of love a person can carry or give out. The sci-fi author Robert Heinlein put it this way: 'The more you love, the more you can love.'"

"But with the intimacy and sex and all that stuff?"

"Yes, of course, with all that stuff. There's still no limit, well, except for me there are the physical limitations of a sixty year old man."

Laura snuffled and magically produced a tissue from thin air to wipe her nose. We were quiet for a long time as we hummed along the Interstate highway.

Laura finally asked, "What about Tom? Does he know? If not, how do you think he'll eventually take the news that his wife is in love with you and that the two of you are ... fucking?"

"I don't know Tom well enough to predict his response, but I would hope it would be rational. He hasn't been physical with her for five or six years, yet Jill still loves him and hasn't the remotest inclination to leave him. He may know, and if he doesn't, she thinks he's intuited that she has a special relationship with me. She told me she's talked about me a lot to Tom. This weekend I felt I was a bit under the microscope not only by you, but also by him. I would guess he was also seeing how Jill interacted with him."

Laura said, "He saw that only one bed had been slept in. He didn't say anything, but it was kind of obvious. He stood in the doorway and stared at the bed. He was also there when I gave Jill her toothbrush from our bathroom - your bathroom during the week. He never said anything, and didn't even raise an eyebrow."

I shrugged at that information. "Tom is consumed by another mistress."

"What? Who?"

"His business. His hedge fund. Jill says that he's positively obsessed with it '24-7.' She thinks he'll drive returns into the double digits on sheer willpower and long hours. You know even when they're both 'at home,' she only sees him for less than a few hours a week. This weekend was a command performance for him; Jill insisted he come out to Hazelwood, if nothing else than for his own mental health. I think she's right; all work and no play makes him a pretty sad case and he'll lose perspective on what's important in his life or even in his business."

"And you just happened to be there for her ... I mean a couple of years ago when this all started." I could hear the sarcasm in Laura's tone.

"It was complex. In hindsight, I think we knew where our relationship was headed, but we got to where we are at a snail's pace. We both wanted to be sure we were ... I guess 'aligned' is the right word."

"Did you ever think of Tom or me as your relationship with Jill was coming together?"

I laughed, "All the time. Constantly. We love both of you. We didn't want to hurt you, but we also wanted our relationship to flourish. It wasn't that we wanted to sneak around, we didn't want to hurt either of you. We do love you."

"I don't know how to ask this, but are you past the honeymoon phase or are you both still star struck about each other?"